


Contemporary

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-25 20:34:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21362290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Jim catches Spock in the act.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 9
Kudos: 143





	Contemporary

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The bed always feels colder when Jim wakes up alone. It isn’t just the furnace of Spock’s body, but the connection that they share—he’s most relaxed when he has his t’hy’la wrapped around him. Whenever they can, whether it’s aboard the Enterprise or in their part-time San Francisco apartment, they fall asleep together. Jim hasn’t slept alone since the last time an away mission went wrong and Spock was held prisoner on a planet overnight. 

They’re on a short break, staying on Earth while the Enterprise undergoes repairs, and there should be no reason to _ever_ be apart. Bones teases that Jim should take this opportunity to get away and have a moment of peace, free of Vulcan logic, but to Jim, Spock’s presence is the most peaceful thing in the world. He reaches out through the darkness, feeling along the dip in the mattress where his partner’s body should be. He can hear the faint whispers of music wafting in from the living room, which stirs his curiosity.

The clock on the walls tells him that it’s nowhere near morning, but Jim pushes out of bed anyway. He buries his yawn behind his hand and wades forward, following the whisper of light that ekes out through the hallway. Then he’s in the doorway of the living room. The curtains are drawn enough for starlight to paint the scene. The radio is playing, quiet but enough: a low, old-fashioned Earth tune that Jim might’ve heard as a child. Spock stands in the center of the rug, arms moving with the melody.

He spins in a slow circle, chest arching up, shoulders held high and hips swaying with the beat. Jim’s breath catches at the sheer grace of the movement, and then he realizes what’s happening: Spock’s _dancing_.

Spock is so caught up in his careful choreography that he doesn’t seem to notice Jim until his next spin puts them face-to-face. Then Spock’s arms fall to his sides, his body going rigid. Jim can feel the grin spreading his lips. 

He murmurs, “Nice moves, Spock. I didn’t know that you could dance.”

Spock frowns. It’s too dark to tell, but his cheeks are likely green. It’s easy to figure out why he’s chosen to perform in the middle of the night, when his only witness would be absent. Spock tightly answers, “I am not able to ‘dance’ adequately. Thus, I am practicing.”

Jim can’t help pressing, “And why would you be doing that?”

“I should think that would be obvious.” In other words, he’s doing it for _Jim_, but he can’t bring himself to say it. For someone who prides himself on a lack of emotional expression, Spock embarrasses remarkably easily sometimes. For a second, Jim considers teasing him mercilessly.

But it’s late, and Jim’s too tired for it. He decides to take pity on Spock and says only, “It looked like you were doing well.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Could you use a teacher?”

Spock is silent for a moment. Then he holds out his hands, and Jim steps forward to take them.


End file.
